SHERLOCK

PURPLE ON BROWN

Author's Note:

Main Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Side Pairing: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade [pre-slash]

Warnings: Graphic m/m sex, explicit language, mild clothing kink, references to self-harm

Note: The sixth story in the "Colours" series. The full list can be found on my profile. The partner series is called "Sherlock: Impact" and tells the Mystrade side of the story. The full list can be found on my profile.

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

The man and his secretary left the restaurant quickly, eyeing John and Sherlock carefully. John just sliced at his salmon calmly, taking small bites.

Sherlock swallowed before saying, 'Thank you, John.'

'No worries,' John answered. He didn't look up until he felt something on his lips. He saw that Sherlock had picked up his discarded napkin and was patting the sapphire-coloured paper against his lips. 'Sherlock?'

'You have some salmon on your lips,' Sherlock smiled, blushing.

John smiled back. 'Well, make sure you get it all.'

Hesitantly, Sherlock leaned forwards to kiss John softly... in public.

And it was wonderful.

Sherlock had never believed that he'd love someone as much as he loved John Watson. The man was brave, strong, fearless, and had stood up for Sherlock for no other reason than love. The man in the restaurant, with his cruel words because Sherlock and John were gay, he had made Sherlock feel so bad and dirty for what he and John where doing. He'd made Sherlock want to go into the bathroom and just sit forever and never come out.

And then John had stepped in.

Beautiful John Watson, the man Sherlock loved.

Sherlock's lips were frantic on John's as they fell into 221B. Sherlock couldn't help it. He needed John, now, he needed to be close, so close. He wanted to be with him completely.

'Sh-Sherlock?' John questioned as Sherlock nudged at him with his hips.

'I love you,' Sherlock said, breathlessly. John smiled.

'I know, I love you too. But what are you doing?'

'I want... you,' Sherlock said, kissing John again feverishly. 'Please, John, I want you right now.'

John knew what he meant; Sherlock wanted sex. The episode at the restaurant had shown Sherlock just how much John cared about him. And he wanted him because of that.

Sherlock was beginning to get annoyed now. Why did John always have to pull back? 'What?' he whined loudly.

'Sherlock, I'm flattered, really,' John said and tried to calm his beating heart. 'But this is going a little too fast. I've never... I don't...' he trailed off and stepped away.

Sherlock was frozen where he stood. He was such an idiot, such a complete and utter moron. John had never been with another man and had only recently discovered his feelings for Sherlock. They'd been together all of two days and suddenly Sherlock was forcing himself on John.

'I'm... I'm so sorry,' Sherlock said. He felt like he'd start crying any minute. How could he do this to John, to his John? Sherlock understood John better than anyone and John understood him. How could Sherlock act this foolishly?

Sherlock backtracked quickly, putting distance between himself and John.

'I can't believe I did that,' Sherlock said, his heart twisting violently in his chest. 'John, I am so sorry.'

He'd never lost control of his body like that. He'd always been in control, always, his mind controlled everything.

'It's okay,' John said. He knew Sherlock hadn't meant to be that forward. 'Sherlock, it's alright.'

But Sherlock was shaking his head viciously from side to side. John thought he was in danger of knocking himself out.

'No, no, no, no,' Sherlock muttered, running his hands through his hair. 'I...I... what am I doing?' He backed up quickly and hit the bathroom door.

John saw what he was going to do and jumped forward as Sherlock tried to disappear into the tiled room. Though Sherlock had stopped cutting himself, and had promised himself and John that he never would again, Sherlock still saw the bathroom as his safe haven. He could hide from the world in there, curling up as the shower ran and he tapped his hands against the floor.

When Sherlock went in there he didn't come back for a very, very long time.

'No, Sherlock, don't do this to me!' John shouted. He grabbed Sherlock's arm and tried to drag him back.

'No!' Sherlock shouted. 'Let me go! I shouldn't have done that! I hurt you, John, I hurt my John! No, no, no, NO!'

'Sherlock, goddamn it!' John shouted and managed to pull Sherlock into him. He spun the consulting detective so that now John was standing between him and the bathroom.

'John, move!' Sherlock shouted.

'No.'

'MOVE!'

'NO!'

They stood opposite each other, breathless, faces red from shouting. Sherlock scratched at his arms, looked anywhere but at John.

'Sherlock, we're in a relationship now, you can't just run off and hide in the bathroom.'

'Why not?'

'Because that's now how relationships work,' John sighed. He kept his eyes on Sherlock as he leaned against the bathroom door frame. 'Sherlock, we need to talk about this.'

Sherlock shook his head roughly. 'No.'

'Sherlock, you did the wrong thing,' John said, 'but I forgive you.'

'No.'

'Sherlock, look at me!' Finally Sherlock swallowed and his light blue eyes found John's dark ones. 'We need to talk, Sherlock.' When he failed to speak again, John continued.

'Sherlock, you were overcome with emotions for me when I stood up for you. It's only natural that you'd want to express your gratitude through sex. I'm new at this and I'm not quite ready for that, not just yet. Besides, I don't want to move too quickly. I'm not angry at you, Sherlock, because we didn't discuss this beforehand.'

Sherlock watched John carefully, looking for any sign that John wanted to leave the relationship or hit Sherlock. He didn't find any.

'Sherlock, I apologise for making you think that I didn't want you,' John said, 'because I do, very much so, but I don't think either of us are ready for sex just yet. And all I need to hear is you apologising for being so forward, okay?'

Slowly, Sherlock nodded. 'I'm... I'm sorry, John.'

'Apology accepted,' John smiled. He stepped forward slowly, carefully, eyes locked on Sherlock. When Sherlock made no move to dart into the bathroom, he closed the gap between them and tentatively put his arms around Sherlock's waist. 'Are we okay?'

Sherlock swallowed and nodded.

'Sherlock, I need to hear you say it.'

'We're okay,' Sherlock said. 'I'm sorry.'

John nodded. 'That's okay, Sherlock. I love you.' He leaned up and kissed Sherlock softly.

'I love you too, John,' the consulting detective said. He wrapped his arms around John and hugged tightly. 'Thank you for standing up for me... for us.'

'That's alright,' John said and pressed his face into Sherlock's purple silk shirt. He took a deep breath. 'I really do like that shirt.'

Sherlock felt himself smile. 'Bed?' he asked before adding, 'Erm, just... just to sleep.'

John chuckled. 'Sounds lovely,' he said and dragged Sherlock up the stairs and to his room. There they changed into their pyjamas and John nestled himself into Sherlock, enjoying the warmth and smell.

'I'm sorry, John,' Sherlock murmured again as the doctor ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair. 'I shouldn't have lost control like that.'

'That's okay, Sherlock. You love me, it's only natural.'

'Is it?' Sherlock asked. 'I felt so out of control; my body was doing all the thinking.'

'Sherlock, that's what happens when you're so attracted to someone. Don't worry, you'll get used to it.' He moved to look up at Sherlock. 'Trust me, okay?'

Sherlock nodded. 'I trust you with my life, John, and I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry too.'

'You have no reason to apologise,' Sherlock said. He felt John's fingers in his hair and hummed into John's chest. Soon John heard his breathing turn shallow and he smiled as the genius fell asleep in his arms.

{oOo}

'But I don't want you to go.'

'I need a night out. You're more than welcome to come.'

'But it'll be boring.'

'To you, yes, but I find it fun.'

'Talking to Lestrade about football is fun?'

'Yes.'

A pause. 'I'm fun.'

'I know you are, Sherlock. But I'm still going out.'

Sherlock pouted and crossed his arms. John would never admit it but he loved that look. It was Sherlock's way of saying he didn't understand something. So he curled in on himself and put up barriers. But John knew how to get through them. He'd known the man for nearly two years, had been dating him for a month; there was little he didn't know about Sherlock Holmes.

John crossed from the kitchen to the living room and leaned on the back of the couch. Sherlock was laying sprawled against the sofa, arms folded, bottom lip out.

'Sherlock, I need to unwind with a few drinks.'

'You just want to get away from me.'

'I offered you an invitation. Even Lestrade said to bring you along.'

'Lestrade is boring.'

'He is not and you know it.'

Sherlock tried to turn away but John grabbed his arms. 'We talked about this, Sherlock.'

Sherlock huffed. 'Fine. Go out with stupid Lestrade. I don't care.'

'Yes you do.'

'No I don't.'

'Yep.'

'Nope.'

John grinned. He leaned over the couch and kissed Sherlock softly, chastely, reducing the genius to a pile of goo.

'No fair,' Sherlock murmured and traced John's lips with his finger.

John chuckled. 'Sherlock, I need to go out. We've spent every night together for a month. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but sometimes too much time together is a bad thing.'

Sherlock frowned, trying to decide if that was true or not.

'I'm sure there are plenty of experiments you could do while I'm gone,' John prompted. 'Didn't you say a few hours were all that was needed for you to scour my bedroom and find out everything important about it?'

Sherlock's eyes lit up. They'd been spending most nights in Sherlock's room since it was closer. During the day, when John went to work and Sherlock wasn't on a case, the consulting detective couldn't be bother going into John's room. He's just sulk on the couch, shoot at the walls, or destroy anything in reaching distance. But now John had put the idea in his mind, Sherlock very much wanted to go and learn everything about John's room.

'I... I can?' Sherlock asked, looking very much like a kid with a new toy. 'You won't be upset?'

'Nope. You'll have at least five or six hours without me.'

Sherlock grinned. 'Okay. You go with Lestrade, I'll be in your room.'

He hopped up to dash off and John shouted, 'Oi!'

Sherlock stopped and turned, raising his eyebrows.

'A kiss goodbye, Sherlock,' John tutted.

Sherlock smiled and, blushing, moved back to John. He leaned over the couch so they could kiss, lips against lips, tongues fighting to explore. John sighed softly as Sherlock pulled back.

'Off you go to your little play-date with Lestrade,' Sherlock said and made shooing gestures.

John chuckled. Two minutes ago Sherlock was positively depressed. Now he was jumping for joy (literally). He ushered John out the door and kissed him before closing it. Sherlock turned and raced up the stairs to John's room. He pushed the door open and looked around.

What to do first...

{oOo}

'I didn't think you were coming,' Greg Lestrade said. He smiled and pushed a beer across the table to John.

'Yeah, I just had to convince Sherlock to let me out.'

'Keeping you busy?' Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow.

John found himself blushing. While he didn't mind talking about the less important details of his sex life, it felt weird talking to anyone about Sherlock. With Sherlock, they were best friends and lovers. John had never known someone as well as he knew Sherlock. He understood the man completely and Sherlock understood him.

'We... we haven't...' John began and sipped his beer. 'You know...'

'No sex?' Lestrade asked and John shook his head. 'Er, why? You've been together, what–'

'One month,' John said.

Lestrade grinned. 'Ah, look at little Johnny keeping count.'

'Shut up,' John scowled and blushed harder.

'I'm kidding, Doctor,' Lestrade smiled. 'You're not ready then?'

'No,' John admitted. 'I just don't know how to... I dunno.'

'It's alright,' Lestrade said. 'The first time can be painful, believe me.'

'How did you manage it?' John asked.

'Well,' Greg said and took a huge gulp of beer, 'I was fourteen when I realised I was gay. Didn't come out 'til I was twenty-five.'

'And the sex?' John asked.

'I was... seventeen,' Greg said, remembering. 'It was the boy next door; we'd been friends since childhood and one night we snuck into his dad's liquor cabinet. Well, you can imagine the rest; giggling, flirting, admitting we both liked boys a bit too much, kissing, touching, sex...'

'You move pretty quickly,' John noted.

Lestrade chuckled. 'I was a drunk and horny teenager, John, suddenly faced with a hot naked guy. What else could I do but give him the best sex of his life?'

John snorted into his beer.

'Anyway,' Greg said loudly, ignoring John's smirk, 'it was painful, we didn't think ahead so no lube; remember lube, John. Anyway, yeah, I couldn't sit properly the next day. But if you plan ahead it's easier to adjust. But you're an adult; you should move slowly.'

'I just don't want to screw anything up,' John admitted. 'Sherlock's told me he's had sex with men before but he's never been in love. What if I'm so rubbish he decides I'm not worth it?'

Lestrade snorted. 'There is no way that man is going to lose interest in you.'

'You can't know that.'

'I can,' Lestrade said. 'He's an addict, our Sherlock. And he's now addicted to you.' He smiled as John blushed. 'You want my advice?'

'Yeah.'

'Just... let things happen,' he said. 'You take Sherlock first. It'll show you what it's all about and give Sherlock an insight into what you like. That way he can use that to make your first time better.'

'I... uh... me take him?'

Lestrade nodded slowly over his beer. 'You be the top first time 'round. Or just be the top the first few times, let Sherlock be the bottom. He'll work out what you like quick enough and then your first time won't be so bad.'

John was blushing at the thought of actually doing something to Sherlock Holmes. He loved the kissing, Sherlock was a fantastic kisser, but he wanted to do more...

'I... erm, yeah, yeah... maybe...'

Lestrade grinned at the colour creeping up John's cheeks.

'Ah, little Johnny is about to become a man.'

'I'll hit you, Greg, I don't care if you're a cop.'

Lestrade narrowed his eyes. 'Bring it on.'

{oOo}

'And you're not going to tell me who gave you the black eye?'

John winced as Sherlock pressed the ice against his face. 'Nope.'

Sherlock tutted. 'A bar fight, John, really?'

'You should see the other guy,' John joked. He'd got a few hits in, being a soldier, but Lestrade was a fit cop. He'd got his own hits in too. Both men ended up with bruised faces and deflated egos. They drowned their sorrows with five beers each and were best friends again by the end of the night.

'It was Lestrade, wasn't it?' Sherlock asked.

John just shrugged. 'Don't know what you mean.'

Sherlock tutted again and went back to looking at John's wound. 'It's okay, you'll be okay.' He moved back so John could lean on him. John sighed happily and kicked his shoes off.

'Sherlock?

'Mm?'

'I think I'm ready to... to try something.'

Sherlock paused. He'd been running his hands through John's hair. While John didn't enjoy it nearly as much as Sherlock (he was a cat, remember?) it still felt nice.

'What... do you mean?' Sherlock asked, hand resting on John's head.

'I'm ready to try something,' John repeated.

But Sherlock wasn't going to do or try anything until he understood exactly what John was saying. He didn't want a repeat of their first date.

'John, please be more clear,' Sherlock said. 'I would hate to have a repeat of...' he trailed off and John shifted so he was looking at Sherlock.

'I was talking to Greg...'

'Always a smart move,' Sherlock drawled.

'Shut up and listen!' John snapped but he was smiling. He didn't continue until he had Sherlock's full attention. 'Being a gay man, I thought that Greg could talk me through... you know...'

'Sex with another man?' Sherlock guessed.

John nodded. 'He suggested that maybe we try... well, maybe we try sex with me... with me um...'

'Being on top?' Sherlock asked and John nodded again. 'Okay, I'm with you so far,' Sherlock continued. 'If you were to penetrate me first I would be able to see what you like and you would see exactly what it is like to have sex with a man. Then, when you feel comfortable and ready, we could reverse our roles with me penetrating you for the first time.'

John blushed deeply. 'You sure know how to make everything romantic, Sherlock.'

'I don't follow you.'

'Of course you don't,' John sighed. 'Sherlock, sex isn't just about getting off, not when it's with someone you love.'

'Oh,' Sherlock said, frowning. 'What is it about?'

'Well, it's about getting off, yeah, but it's also about sharing yourself with that person.'

'Is that what scares you?' Sherlock asked. 'Sharing yourself with me?'

'No,' John said, 'I guess... kind of. Look, it's just a bit... you know, weird. I'm not used to doing this with a man. I like it, don't get me wrong, and I love you, Sherlock. But I don't want to let you... well, you know... until I'm completely ready. I don't want to screw things up.'

'I see.'

'So I thought about it and decided that we could try the... you know, with you being a... a...'

'Bottom?' Sherlock said and John blushed. Sherlock loved that colour on John. 'Yes, I agree. It would be most enjoyable... I want to give myself to you, John, if you will let me.'

John grinned. 'Really?'

'Really,' Sherlock nodded. 'I love you, John.'

'Okay,' John said. 'I was thinking sometime this week maybe. We could have dinner and just... just see where things go. I don't want to force it, though; it has to be right.'

'Of course, John,' Sherlock said and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. 'I would never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.'

John smiled and leaned into his partner. 'Thank you, Sherlock.'

'For what?'

'For being you.'

'I can't help being me, John.'

John chuckled.

{oOo}

It was Sherlock who bought the lube. John just couldn't bring himself to do it, not yet. It sat in the chest of draws in John's room (which had basically become their room since Sherlock had decided he didn't mind sleeping when John was in the bed too), waiting for the couple to be ready.

Friday night they found themselves at the restaurant where they'd had their first date. It was nice; they ate salmon, they kissed, they chatted, they blushed. And when they got back to 221B, John knew he was ready.

They fell into the bedroom kissing hotly, running lips, tongues and fingers over each other. John had never seen Sherlock naked and suddenly found he absolutely needed to before the night was out.

He grabbed at Sherlock's shirt and pulled it from his trousers. Sherlock smiled and reached up to undo the buttons.

'No, leave it on,' John said and blushed. He was wearing his purple silk shirt and John found the thought of having sex with Sherlock while he was wearing that shirt completely arousing.

Sherlock smirked. 'Very well, Doctor. But only if you put this on.' He turned and rummaged through John's closet before pulling out a thick brown jumper. It was the one John wore on Saturdays when the two of them lazed about the flat. It was big and baggy and Sherlock was constantly nestled into the fabric, purring as he rubbed his cheek against it.

'Really?' John asked.

'Shirt for the jumper,' Sherlock grinned.

His arousal only increased as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, pulling the baggy jumper on.

'How is it that we've become kinky already?' John asked as Sherlock worked at licking his neck, running his fingers over and beneath the fabric. He moaned softly as Sherlock's nimble fingers fiddled with his belt.

'That jumper is you, John, and I associate it with you. I want to have sex with you.'

John blushed furiously as his pants fell around his ankles. He had to lean on Sherlock to get out of them, his shoes and his socks.

Sherlock watched John's face as he slowly worked at his own belt, the fly falling open quickly. John shivered as he watched Sherlock step gracefully from his trousers and shoes, now standing in black boxer shorts and his purple silk shirt.

'Give me your hand,' Sherlock said softly, carefully.

John complied and Sherlock directed the doctor's left hand to the bulge in his boxers. John shivered as Sherlock manoeuvred his hand to cup the bulge. He felt Sherlock's cock twitch at the touch and moaned softly, his own underwear forming a tent.

Sherlock asked, 'Is this alright?'

'Yes,' John nodded. 'I like it.'

Sherlock began rubbing John's hand against his erection slowly, allowing John to grow accustomed to feeling another man's cock.

'Can I touch it?' John asked.

Sherlock smiled and moved John's hand again, his skin reassuring on John's. He used his other hand to pull his boxers open before slowly, carefully, lowering John's hand in.

It was warm and hard and slightly wet. John stood and enjoyed the exploration, his fingers brushing lightly against Sherlock's erection. Sherlock was watching John carefully but moaned ever so slightly when John's fingers brushed over the head.

'Can I see it?' John asked.

Sherlock looked at him carefully as he released John's hand. John withdrew it and stared at Sherlock's crotch as the boxers fell away.

He was beautiful; there was no other word for it. He was so pale and skinny but his thighs showed nice muscles and pale hair. His hips were bony and his belly-button dark. Hair dusted his stomach and went down to his erection, which was slightly longer than John's. John was thicker, though, so he felt good; they evened out.

John stepped forward so he was closer and gently reached out. He gripped Sherlock's cock softly and the tall man groaned, closing his eyes. John rubbed up and down, liking the feel of Sherlock's warm hardness in his hand. He stepped even closer so he could breathe the same air as Sherlock. He rested his head against Sherlock's chest and looked down to watch what he was doing.

Sherlock was quivering at his touches, pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock. John trailed a finger through it and brought it quickly to his lips. It was salty and warm and tasted of Sherlock.

John dropped to his knees and Sherlock looked down.

'John, you don't have to,' he said, his worry for his boyfriend breaking through his lust.

'I want to,' John said. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Sherlock's cock. Sherlock shifted from foot to foot as John grew bolder, more curious. Soon he was licking at Sherlock quickly, his lips wrapping around the tip.

'Oh God, John,' Sherlock breathed, his head tilting back.

John knew he wasn't doing that good a job. He was too nervous to take Sherlock completely and had settled for sucking the tip and running his tongue and fingers along Sherlock's length. But from the moans Sherlock was making he was clearly enjoying it.

'Is it okay?' John asked.

'Perfect,' Sherlock smiled and ran a hand through John's hair. 'I love you.'

'I love you too,' John said, grinning.

Sherlock bent to help John onto the bed. He sat John down and said, 'Can I take off your underwear?'

John nodded and Sherlock removed them quickly. He spent a good five minutes staring at John, committing every curve, spot and hair to memory. He leaned forward carefully and ran his nimble fingers over John's erection.

'Oh,' John gasped as Sherlock continued, going slowly and carefully. It wasn't the first time John had got a blow job but with Sherlock it was so much more.

Sherlock wrapped his lips around John's shaft and moved down to take him completely. John groaned and leaned back, looking down to watch Sherlock suck him off. He was good with that tongue, with those lips, making John moan and shiver and feel overheated. He couldn't believe they'd waited so long to do this.

'Sh-Sherlock,' John gasped, pleasure sweeping through him. 'Please... s-stop.'

Sherlock did so immediately, drawing back to look up at John. 'Am I going too fast? Did I do something wrong?'

'No, of course not,' John said and reached out to stroke Sherlock's cheek. 'That was very good.' He shivered again at the memory. 'Very good.' Sherlock smiled. 'But if we want to do anything else you have to stop or I'll...' he trailed off and blushed.

'That's going to become your permanent colour soon,' Sherlock said. He leaned up to kiss John and John could taste himself on Sherlock's lips.

'Lube,' he murmured.

Sherlock kissed John quickly before asking, 'Are you sure?' When John nodded he pulled the bottle from the top draw and flipped it open. 'May I?'

Another nod from John and he was squeezing the cold liquid onto his fingers. It smelled of lavender and Sherlock decided he'd always associate this smell with John. He sat beside John and reached out for the man's cock, hearing a gasp as his cold, wet fingers engulfed John.

John was slicked up and Sherlock grabbed his left hand, coating all of John's fingers.

'I want you to do something for me, but only if you're okay with it,' Sherlock said.

John nodded. 'Anything, Sherlock.'

Sherlock dragged himself across the bed so he was sitting against the headboard. He spread his legs and John moved to allow him.

'What do I do?' John asked, nervous.

'Come here,' Sherlock said and John crawled up the bed. He leaned over Sherlock to kiss him softly, feeling the man's hot lips beneath his.

Sherlock took John's left hand and brought it down, passing briefly over his cock before going further. Sherlock pressed John's wet fingers to his entrance and stopped, looking at John for his reaction.

John's cock was dripping now. He was sitting there with a half-naked Sherlock Holmes, his fingers pressed to the man's opening. He shivered and said, 'Now what?'

'Is it okay if you put a finger in?' Sherlock asked.

'Yes,' John said, 'I want to.'

'Okay.' Sherlock moved John's fingers again and one entered him softly, slowly. John and Sherlock both moaned as John's finger went all the way in. Sherlock had missed this; the feel of someone pressing into him. John was amazed at the tightness and heat. He moved his finger out and Sherlock shivered beneath him. He gasped when John pushed two fingers in.

'Are you okay?' John asked, worried he'd done the wrong thing.

'I should be asking you that,' Sherlock said, biting his bottom lip. 'That's very good. Now, I want you to slide in and out a few times.'

John complied, loving the hot tightness of his boyfriend. Sherlock had his eyes closed and was moaning softly. He nearly flew off the bed when John decided to get creative. He curled his fingers and hit Sherlock's prostate.

Sherlock gasped loudly and pushed down, thrusting John's fingers deeper inside.

'S-sorry,' he managed to gasp, pulling back. 'I'm so sorry, John.'

John did it again and Sherlock moaned. John grinned.

'You're a little tease, John Watson,' Sherlock said as another wave of pleasure swept through his body.

'Is that a joke about my height?' John asked. He leaned up to kiss Sherlock, feeling more comfortable as he fingered his boyfriend.

'N-n-no,' Sherlock moaned, pushing down again. 'You're the... the perfect height... for... for...'

'For what?' John asked, amazed that he could make Sherlock whither about and lose his voice.

'For... c-cud...' he gasped again as John curled his fingers.

'Sherlock Holmes, are you saying you like my height because you can cuddle me?' John asked, smiling broadly.

'Mm,' Sherlock moaned as John pushed in again. 'Whatever... whatever you... say.'

Suddenly John's fingers were gone.

'What's wrong?' Sherlock asked, eyes flashing open.

John dragged Sherlock down so his head hit the pillows. He climbed in-between Sherlock's legs and asked, 'What do I do, Sherlock? I... I want to be inside you, now.'

Sherlock smiled and lifted his legs to hook them around John's waist. He took John's cock carefully and John shuffled forwards so his cock poked at Sherlock's entrance.

Both men shivered in anticipation. 'Are you ready?' Sherlock asked.

'Yes,' John nodded.

Sherlock took John's cock and pulled it into himself. John took over when Sherlock's hand disappeared and he thrust forward slowly, entering Sherlock completely.

Both men groaned. Sherlock's arse quivered around John, begging to be fucked. He'd missed this; the pressure, the feeling of being full. John just sat there, Sherlock's tightness squeezing around him. He leaned forward to kiss Sherlock and slipped out slightly. Annoyed, John pushed back in.

Sherlock moaned as John began thrusting. He was caught up in the heat, in the urge, in the need to fuck his boyfriend. He lost all thoughts about bringing Sherlock to pleasure or about extending the sensation as he thrust hard.

Sherlock didn't mind, he was too caught up with the fact that John Watson was fucking him. He grabbed his own cock and pulled tightly, feeling himself tighten around John.

'F-fuck, Sherlock,' John groaned, thrusting wildly. He was completely out of control but Sherlock loved it. John was always so collected, so calm, so trustworthy. Sherlock loved that he was losing control and taking him for his own.

John's hands were tight around Sherlock's biceps, pinning them in place. Sherlock could barely reach his throbbing cock but found it added to the thrill.

'Harder!' Sherlock shouted. 'Please, John!'

It seemed John heard him through the haze because the thrusts became more intense. He hit Sherlock's prostate every third or fourth thrust, causing a maddening flow of pleasure that sent Sherlock to the edge before the lack of a hit drew him back.

It was infuriating, annoying, amazing, the best thing Sherlock had ever felt. He stroked himself as best he could, whimpering when he couldn't get at his cock and groaning when his fingers squeezed tightly.

John was teasing him madly and Sherlock loved it. He loved how he could barely reach himself, how only every third thrust hit home. It was a big fucking tease and Sherlock found himself more aroused than he ever had been in his life. John Watson was doing this to him; he had complete control over how much pleasure Sherlock felt.

John was coming suddenly, gasping, biting his lips. He pushed deeper and Sherlock looked up at him, saw the bliss cover his features.

Sherlock tugged on himself one last time and came with a shout, completely covering his silk shirt. He moaned and dragged his fingers over himself, milking the climax as long as he could. John was panting over him, thrusting softly, moaning Sherlock's name over and over again.

Suddenly John was lying atop Sherlock and Sherlock buried his face into John's jumper, breathing in the scent of washing powder and moth balls and John.

'I love you,' he whispered, burying his face in John's neck.

John was panting heavily against Sherlock, his face sticking to Sherlock's cum.

'I'm sorry,' John mumbled. 'I didn't... I should have...'

Sherlock grabbed John's chin and turned him so they were face-to-face. 'John, don't be ridiculous. That was wonderful, for me and you. I loved it.'

'Really?' John asked.

Sherlock nodded. 'I loved watching you come undone, I loved you taking me and fulfilling your own needs before mine. It is without a doubt the best sex I have ever had.'

John smiled. 'I knew I was a great lover.'

Sherlock chuckled and kissed John's lips softly. 'Make sure you do that every time.'

'What, lose control and completely ignore you?'

'Yes,' Sherlock said. 'I want that every time.'

'Why?'

'Because it was so... John, you were in control. I liked it; I was controlled by you. Please do that again. You drove me so close to the edge and then I was forced back. And I could barely touch myself... you had complete control over how much pleasure I felt and it was... it was amazing.'

'You like being controlled?' John asked.

'Apparently,' Sherlock smiled, 'but only by you.'

John smiled and rolled off of Sherlock, wrapped an arm around his thin waist. 'Sherlock, your shirt is ruined.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'm never wearing it outside again.' He looked at John and smirked at the heat that spread up John's face.

{oOo}

They were both exhausted the next morning. Having slept in the silk shirt and jumper, both were feeling particularly dirty as they took a shower together. Sherlock once again proved that he was good with his mouth and John showed he was a fast learner.

After cleaning up they got into their pyjamas and spent most of the morning in front of the TV, not really watching, just smiling and kissing and touching, picking at a container of chocolate chip ice cream John had bought the day before. They both found that Sherlock was a complete hog when it came to chocolate chip ice cream and that John had to hold it to ensure he got some.

There was a knock on the door around eleven and John pulled himself from Sherlock.

'No, come back!' Sherlock whined.

'What if it's Lestrade?' he asked as he walked to the door. 'Maybe he has a case.'

'I don't want a case,' Sherlock pouted. 'I want you.'

John smiled as he pulled the door open. He froze and nearly choked on his own tongue.

'Are you feeling okay, Dr Watson?' Mycroft Holmes asked, smirking. 'You look a little pale.'

The words of Sebastian, the banker and old university friend of Sherlock's, came back to John quickly. He had said Sherlock could tell when you were shagging the previous night... and Mycroft Holmes was smarter than his brother.

Oh God! The lunatic had kidnapped John for talking to Sherlock. And now they were dating! OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD, O–

'Are you going to invite me in, Dr Watson, or continue praising the Roman Catholic God?' Mycroft asked.

John made some type of noise that might have been a squeak or a whimper. He stepped aside and Mycroft breezed into the flat, sliding gracefully into John's arm chair.

'Hello, brother,' Mycroft smiled at Sherlock. 'I trust your night was... pleasant?'

OH GOD, HE KNEW!

John was close to hyperventilating. What would Mycroft do to him? Would he kill him? Have him removed? Make him and Sherlock break up?

Well, John just wouldn't let it happen. He loved Sherlock and he wasn't going anywhere.

'What do you want, Mycroft?' Sherlock drawled. Clearly he didn't notice that John was having a heart attack.

'I just wanted to visit my brother,' Mycroft said, still smirking. 'How are you?'

'Fine.'

'That's good,' he said and paused. 'Is that lavender I smell?'

Sherlock tensed and glared at his brother as John stepped forward. 'Look, you might not approve that I'm Sherlock's boyfriend,' John said hurriedly and found both Holmes brothers staring at him. 'But I care about him and I'm not going anywhere, got it?'

Mycroft smirked at him. 'Believe me, Dr Watson, I have no qualms about you being Sherlock's... boyfriend.' He smiled again. 'I have no wish, nor do I have any plans, to break the two of you up.'

John stared at the government official. 'Oh,' he said. 'So, erm, you don't care? That... that I'm a man, I mean, and that Sherlock's dating me?'

Mycroft raised a perfect eyebrow and Sherlock snorted.

'My brother is gay, John.'

John looked at Sherlock. 'What?'

'Mycroft is gay,' Sherlock repeated.

Looking back at Mycroft, who was smiling, John said, 'Oh. Er, right. Right... I'm... I'm sorry, Mycroft... I... I didn't know...' He could feel his face turning red. It really was becoming a bad habit.

Mycroft was thoroughly enjoying John's embarrassment. 'That is quite alright, Dr Watson,' he smirked. 'I don't make it a habit of introducing myself with my name as well as my sexuality. An easy mistake for you to make, I am sure, believing that I would for some reason be against my brother being in a sexual relationship with another man. But rest assured that I have no ill beliefs towards homosexuality.'

John blushed furiously and Mycroft smiled. Only a Holmes could insult you while remaining perfectly polite and hospitable. Although Sherlock was never polite when he insulted people... maybe it was just a Mycroft thing.

'Leave him alone!' Sherlock snapped at his brother. 'You're just jealous that I have a partner and you don't. How long has it been, Mycroft? Five years?'

Mycroft's eyes narrowed as he said, 'I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, dear brother.'

'Why must you be so annoying?' Sherlock demanded.

'You are the annoying one, Sherlock,' Mycroft retorted.

There was a knock on the door. Sherlock and Mycroft remained where they were, glaring at each other, giving John the sweet relief of answering.

'Hey, Lestrade.'

'Morning, John,' Lestrade said, stepping into the flat. He looked John up and down, noting the pyjamas, and smiled knowingly. 'I just came to ask Sherlock about the details of the case he worked two days ago. Apparently he decided that writing "Dinosaur-Lover" all over Anderson's notes was funny. Now I need to take his statement again.'

'Yeah, 'course,' John chuckled and gestured towards Sherlock, who was still glaring at Mycroft from the couch.

Mycroft himself had turned as Lestrade entered. Lestrade caught sight of the elder Holmes and paused, his eyes raking over the politician. John smiled as Lestrade swallowed, realised he was staring, and turned away quickly.

'Hurry up, Lestrade!' Sherlock snapped and jumped to his feet. He practically pushed John aside to talk to the DI. So much for wanting only John and no cases. Maybe he hadn't meant already solved cases...

John fell onto the couch as Sherlock and Lestrade talked softly about the case, Sherlock with many scoffs and teases, Lestrade with many threats and sighs.

John turned his attention to Mycroft, who hadn't moved. He still had his body angled towards Lestrade, who was standing opposite the bathroom with Sherlock. The politician's eyes scanned Lestrade carefully, taking in the crumbled yet well-fitting suit, the wide shoulders, the slightly rounded face, the dark brown eyes, and the silver hair.

Apparently liking with what he saw, Mycroft sat straighter, something John didn't believe possible; Mycroft Holmes always had good posture, the posh git. John smiled as Mycroft continued to watch Lestrade, only looking away to examine his nails when Lestrade's eyes drifted his way.

John chuckled.

Apparently done, Sherlock fell back onto the couch beside John. 'Very well, Lestrade, you may go.'

Lestrade didn't move and he glanced from Sherlock, to John, to Mycroft, and quickly to the wall.

'Er, right, well I guess–'

'Greg, you want some tea?' John asked, getting up quickly.

'Tea?' Lestrade said, frowning. 'No, actually I'm fi–'

'Tea,' John repeated and dragged Lestrade into the kitchen.

'What are you doing?' Lestrade demanded.

John smirked at him. 'His name is Mycroft, he's Sherlock's older brother, by about ten years I think, he works for the government, has no understanding of privacy, likes wine, good food, discussions about politics, and is very gay and very available.'

Lestrade froze, staring at John, who only smirked more. He bustled about fixing two cups of tea as Lestrade tried to find his voice.

'Er... um...' the DI stuttered.

'Yes?' John asked.

'You saw that I... that I was...'

'Checking him out? Yeah,' John said. 'And Greg?'

'What?'

'He was checking you out.'

'Really?'

'Yep.'

They lapsed into silence as the kettle boiled. John poured boiling water into two cups and added sugar.

'Er, John?'

'Yeah?'

'Did... did he...'

'Like what he saw?' John smiled and handed Lestrade his cup. 'Yep.'

Lestrade blushed and smiled. 'Right,' he said and sipped from his mug. 'Um, and you're sure he's gay? And available?'

John thought back to his earlier conversation with the Holmeses and tried very hard not to blush. 'Yeah, Lestrade, I'm positive. Now take my advice; go in there and talk to him. Flirt a little.'

'I take it you and Sherlock...' Lestrade trailed off and John grinned.

'Apparently he likes being controlled.'

Lestrade snorted. They went back into the living room to find the Holmes brothers glaring at each other. But at Lestrade's appearance, Mycroft's eyes darted to lock onto the DI.

'I do apologise for not introducing myself earlier,' he said smoothly, rising from his seat. He held out a hand. 'Mycroft Holmes.'

'Gregory Lestrade,' Lestrade said, trying very hard not to blush as he took the warm, smooth hand in his own.

'It's a pleasure,' Mycroft smiled.

'Yes, well, this is all lovely,' Sherlock drawled. 'But Lestrade was just leaving. You too, Mycroft.'

'Lestrade's staying for lunch,' John announced suddenly.

'I am?' Lestrade asked.

'He is?' Sherlock demanded.

'Yep,' John grinned. 'Mycroft, would you care to join us?'

Mycroft's eyes narrowed slightly on John and John beamed. Finally Mycroft smiled and said, 'I would be delighted. If Sherlock doesn't mind, of course.'

'Of course I min–' Sherlock began, only to be cut off by John.

'He doesn't,' the doctor said quickly. 'I'll order Chinese.' He dragged Sherlock into the kitchen to order.

'What are you doing, John?' Sherlock demanded. 'And why do you keep dragging people into the kitchen? Is this some fetish of yours that I'm not aware of?' He looked John up and down, as though he really hoped John had a kitchen fetish.

John rolled his eyes as he searched for the takeaway menu. 'Honestly, Sherlock, are you really that dense?'

Offended, Sherlock crossed his arms to pout. 'I am not dense.'

'Lestrade and Mycroft are interested in each other,' John said and looked at Sherlock. The genius still hadn't caught on. 'They, you know...' John said slowly, 'they're attracted to each other.'

Sherlock's mouth dropped open. 'Wh-What?'

John snorted. 'Dense,' he said, finally finding the menu buried under a box of maggots Sherlock had been experimenting on for a week. Something about sugar and decomposing flesh... John tried not to think about it.

'They... really?'

'Yes.'

'My brother and Lestrade?'

'Yes.'

'Lestrade and my brother?'

'How many times are you going to say it?' John asked.

Sherlock stared at him. 'I just... I don't... what?'

John smiled. He really loved how Sherlock didn't get when two people were attracted to each other. He saw everything else except when the people around him were sexually attracted to each other. He smiled and kissed Sherlock lightly.

'Love you.'

Sherlock smiled.

When lunch had been ordered, he found Sherlock staring at Mycroft and Lestrade, hiding behind the wall of the kitchen, his long neck peering around the arch. John swatted him before stopping to eavesdrop with his boyfriend.

'So, Gregory,' Mycroft said carefully and Lestrade felt blood rush to his face as Mycroft said his first name. Mycroft had positioned himself on the couch next to Lestrade so his right thigh was pressed up against Lestrade's left one. 'Tell me about yourself.'

Lestrade angled his body so he was facing Mycroft, who smiled warmly. 'Well, I'm a cop. Er, Sherlock works with us sometimes and... that's about it.'

'Oh, I'm sure that's not true,' Mycroft said. 'I'm sure you have many fascinating secrets.' Sherlock and John both agreed on one thing; knowing Mycroft, he probably already knew all of Lestrade's secrets.

In fact, both were starting to wonder if Mycroft hadn't just come over because he knew Lestrade was going to be there... maybe it wasn't about teasing his brother at all.

Lestrade smiled and threw his left arm onto the back of the couch. His hand came into contact with Mycroft's shoulder and the politician blushed before clearing his throat.

Lestrade grinned. 'Well, Mycroft, I'll have to make sure you don't find out all my secrets. A man has to have some mystery, don't you agree?'

And Mycroft, as the most mysterious man anyone could ever know in the universe, smiled. 'I quite agree, Gregory.'

Sherlock made a choking noise and John pulled him back. 'Stop it.'

'It's horrid,' Sherlock said.

'It's lovely.'

'Horrid,' Sherlock said. John grinned and leaned up to kiss him. God he loved this man so much. Sherlock was just so... Sherlock. He was a genius, a child, a border-line sociopath, an ex-junkie, a lover of danger and death, a serious tantrum thrower, and above all, a good man. And his body? Sexy!

'What was that for?' Sherlock asked.

John grinned and leaned into him, sighing when Sherlock wrapped his long arms around his shoulders. 'Just for being you,' he said. 'Sherlock, last night was great and... I really love you, 'kay?'

Sherlock smiled and said, 'John?'

'Mm?'

'I like lavender.'

John chuckled.

{To Be Continued...}

Author's Note: I know that these latest stories have been much lighter than the originals, but that's because Sherlock, through John, has become a lighter, happier and better person. Get it?

By the way, I had to throw some Mycroft/Lestrade in 'cause that's how I play. Don't hate the player, hate the game (the Mystrade game!)

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}